Serpensa
by Armelle-Madeline
Summary: Snape's illegit daughter spends Christmas with her father, when Harry and Hermione meet her. The Durmstrang student appears to have a past, from the scar on her face to the twisted hand. But how does she relate to the Order's quiet?


The Christmas holidays were, Harry decided, happily uneventful. So far, nothing had happened in the whole term to make it difficult. Voldemort was in hiding with his Death Eaters, the Order was working hard, and Hogwarts was.. well, frankly boring. He watched idly as Professor Flitwick decorated the enormous trees in the hall with a trail of small stars, and gently placed real live fairies on each branch.  
  
He was staying at Hogwarts, along with Neville, and Hermione. Ron had gone home, not without regret but Mrs Weasley had decided that the entire family should be together for this Christmas. It had gone unspoken that the reason for this was that it could be the last time they were all together. Even if the term had been quiet, Bill was now in the Order along with Mr and Mrs Weasley, and the short respite only meant that Voldemort was laying plans.  
  
They'd invited Harry, as had the Order, but he'd refused. The thought of going back, especially when he knew that going to the Order's headquarters was unavoidable, was one he dreaded. Last year, he'd had hopes that perhaps he could spend the holiday with Sirius.  
  
"Do you want to play chess?" Hermione asked timidly, sounding quite unlike herself. Both she and Ron had dodged around the subject of Christmas, knowing Harry as they did. Harry dredged himself out of the gloom of memory, and forced a smile. He knew that Hermione hated chess and that Ron gleefully played so that she'd lose every time.  
  
"No thanks, Hermione," he answered, putting down his fork, half of his steak and kidney pie untouched on his plate. "I think I'm going to go and visit Hedwig." Hermione nodded sympathetically, and lined up her own knife and fork neatly.  
  
There was a sudden bang that made them both jump. A door had slammed loudly, and a tall, thin girl stalked over to a table nearby and sat down with a dark scowl. She looked quite unpleasant; a number of Slytherins were staying over Christmas, the wizarding world looking badly on their families.  
  
Dumbledore was trying to dissuade people from their frantic desire to wipe out any possible support for Voldemort, as innocent people were suffering, but fear had made them determined as it had blinded them, and there were a lot of people wearing green scarves this Christmas around the castle.  
  
This girl was particularly unattractive. She had thick dark eyebrows, currently knitted into a ferocious scowl, and a large nose that dominated her face. Her black hair and dark eyes only emphasised the sallow colour of her skin and a livid red scar ran down her right cheek, facing them. She hunched over her food, shovelling it in hungrily. Harry watched in astonishment, she ate like a ravening dog, then shoved back her seat, and stood up, wiping her mouth on her robe sleeve and ran out of the hall.  
  
Hermione frowned, looking puzzled. "She seemed rather old. I thought we knew most of the seventh year Slytherins." Missing nothing, Hermione had noted the thick green and black scarf knotted around the girl's neck.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Don't care, to be honest. Dumbledore's right, Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle may be gits, but I wish our lot'd leave the Slytherins alone." Not averse to giving Malfoy a punch the blond haired prat desperately deserved, Harry had grown uncomfortable with the aggressive way Gryffindor had been acting. Most of Dumbledore's Army from the previous year had ended up in squabbles or fights with Slytherins. House points had dived and risen temperamentally. Tension between the two houses was palpable.  
  
"Professor Snape's stayed for Christmas," Hermione pointed out, looking at the top table. "I suppose he's looking after the Slytherins." Harry snorted.  
  
"Surprised he's not with the Order," he said bitterly. It had hurt that Sirius was gone, but Snape who still hated him was still there. Hermione hummed, and sighed.  
  
"Well, I suppose," she began, sliding a look at him as if to test his response, "If Snape is here, it means that he isn't needed. Which means that nothing really bad has happened, or is about to happen." Harry ran a distracted hand through his hair; it was already standing on end.  
  
"I don't want to think about it," he said finally, looking at the spot that the unpleasant Slytherin had been sitting at. He pushed back his own seat, and stood up. Hermione followed him patiently, off to the owlery.  
  
/  
  
Harry pulled a couple of owl treats from his pocket, and fed them to Hedwig absently. The snowy owl took umbrage at being ignored and gave him a loving nibble with her beak.  
  
"Ouch, Hedwig," he complained, rubbing her feathers the way she loved. He looked around the owlery; sleepy school owls stood on nearby perches while the pet owls like Hedwig were in small clusters, trying to keep warm. A slight movement caught his eye and Harry ducked under Hedwig's perch to see what it was.  
  
The girl from the great hall was there, struggling with one of the school's owls. Harry cautiously stepped across and she looked up briefly, then dropped her gaze back to the owl.  
  
He followed her eyes. One of her hands was twisted and reddened; the fingers were crooked and she was struggling to knot a roll of parchment onto the owl's leg. She scrambled, trying to avoid his eyes, swinging around so her back faced him.  
  
"Can I help?" he asked awkwardly. She looked up once more. She had black eyes, currently narrowed in a suspicious look under her thick eyebrows.  
  
"All right," she answered abruptly. "I need it tied on. It takes too long." With her seemingly normal hand, she waved at the other, now hidden in the sleeve of her robe. Her fingers were long, and white, a contrast with the ugly flesh of her other hand.  
  
Harry tied it neatly and the owl twitched, fluttering its wings ready to fly. The girl pushed a lot of her thick black hair out of her face, and turned to the owl. "Claudia Amulis," she said quietly. Importantly, the tawny owl spread its wings, and flew off the perch.  
  
"Thank you, I suppose," the girl turned to him, the drawled courtesy faintly insulting. She reminded him of something.  
  
"You're welcome," he answered politely, trying not to take offence at the comment. "I'm Harry Potter. Who are you?" He held out his hand to shake. The girl's lips twitched in a cynical smile, and examined her left hand before holding it out, as if testing him. Gently, he clasped her knobbly fingers in his, and shook, watching her steadily. Her lips curved in a genuine smile and she nodded politely.  
  
"I suppose you want my name?" she said archly, then sighed. "Spuria." A sour expression settled over her face. "You probably know my father, though I doubt you know of me."  
  
"Who is he?" Harry asked, privately not really interested. Spuria sighed heavily, as if it were a heavy burden.  
  
"Snape. Professor Snape, as he's known. My father," she snorted derisively. Harry raised his eyebrows. She frowned defensively, scowling at him. Now that he knew who she resembled, he could see Snape in her. The eyebrows currently narrowed were thick and dark, the black eyes gleaming with cynicism were very like the Potion Master, the sallow skin, lank hair and long, prominent nose were all very much his. Except for the livid red scar running down her left cheek, she could've been a female version of him.  
  
"So, Harry Potter," she drew out the syllables as if the very words tasted nasty in her mouth, and smirked. "Wishing you hadn't volunteered to help a poor cripple?" her face twisted in a bitter expression.  
  
/  
  
A/N: C/C and reviews please! 


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